persephone
by clangwee
Summary: "What do you need a king for when you can have a god?"


Semi-canon until 4x21. Sort of a rewriting of 4x22. Channeling Peter and Lydia from TW if you squint.

Sorry this took too long. Inspiration had been scarce. Anyway, I hope this made sense at least.

* * *

Thousands of years ago, a man loved.

He loved a girl with her honeysuckle smile that stole his breath and who would give it all back with a searing kiss.

She was beautiful in every sense of the word—so young, so pure and so _free_.

All his life he was tethered to the whims of nature and to the person who shared his fate.

_Qetsiyah._

On one hand, his family. On the other, his friend—

with all the meaningless kisses in between

—but never _ever_ his lover.

He loved a girl who didn't try to pry him off the darkness that binds him but loved him despite of it. She let him love her too if only he could share a bit of the freedom she held in her tiny human life.

Thousands of years ago, he _loved_.

And was it so wrong to want to keep it? Was it such a sin to want to keep her? Forever?

He wore the means as a second skin and the magic ran in his veins, but for the eyes of the scorned, forever was a promise he wasn't allowed to make.

_To love was an error_, His friend once said and the girl with her honeysuckle smile screamed as her back curved to an impossible angle and the blood poured out of her mouth.

He couldn't do anything as the earth claimed him from where he stood and his heart burned so painfully in his chest.

All the while Qetsiyah laughed in triumph and heartbreak.

_But to have love returned was a greater crime._

He should have died back then. With her. The girl with her honeysuckle smile.

To see and hear, but not to _feel_—

The thousand numb years he was forced to live and his dried heart grew harder than his stony grave.

Even death was a more forgivable end.

But that lone flower that bloomed on his tomb, a speck of color in his millennia of black…. If only he could flex a finger, extend an arm and reach out then perhaps—

* * *

_Caroline._

Bill smiles over his shoulder, his glasses foggy from the casserole steam.

_Caroline._

Her back arches as Damon trails open-mouthed kisses down her chest.

_Caroline._

The taste of his blood on her tongue, the feel of his skin on her lips… She's supposed to be dying, but why the hell does it feel so _hot-_-

Stop.

Stop. Stop. STOP.

She wakes up.

And it's _too_ green.

His name was Oliver. He used to take piano lessons from Aunt Mary and Caroline would always see him when she stayed there on spring breaks. He made her laugh every time he missed that one note in Für Elise. He's older. He's tall and lanky and he had the greenest of eyes.

She hadn't seen him since five years ago when she was young and _human_.

Right now Oliver is on her bed, resting casually between her legs, his face a hair's breadth away from hers. He twirls a lock of her hair on one hand while the other moves to cup her chin.

"Your mind is a lovely place to be in, Caroline." He murmurs, wearing a smile that doesn't quite fit the face. "So much _darkness_ hidden behind this facade of light."

"Silas." She hisses in realization and he smiles wider when she struggles.

"Don't step back."

She pauses. "What?"

Silas/Oliver leans down, his lips brushing lightly against hers. "Don't step back, Caroline."

Well, she certainly knows a thing or two about evil villains and reverse psychology so in the littlest of movements, she takes a step back (or thinks she does because of the whole Silas-on-top-her situation)…

And the earth crumbles beneath her heel.

Vampire reflexes kick in. She stops herself from toppling over the same second she notices the moon and the trees. The cold night air hits her skin and she give herself a minute to relax, wrapping her arms around her form.

She breathes in the scent of the woods, the bunny hoping not less than ten feet away and the buck running from a mile behind. She turns her head, peeking over her shoulder curiously, and her legs begin to tremble.

Behind her is a free fall to the Mystic Falls lake.

* * *

Godammit supernatural storm, you untimely bitch.

Tomorrow's freaking _graduation_ and shit has to hit the fan the day before? Like, really?

"Do I look like a meteorologist?" Rebekah says with usual disinterest—hey she's not graduating so why the hell should she give a damn—and continues to throw her moony eyes to Matt who _is graduating _but most unfortunately couldn't care less about anything as well.

On another corner of the Grill is yet another graduating person not giving an eff.

"If you're waiting for an apology, you're not getting one." Elena tells Caroline in a detached voice all the while waxing murderous with a dart board. Her pretty face is crumpled, doe eyes strained as she undoubtedly pictures Katherine's face there on the target (which is technically her own face too, right?).

It doesn't surprise her.

Denial is a current fad. Everyone tends to cope in their own ways. Some with anger. Bloodlust. Or just lust.

To Caroline, it's graduation. High school. You know, _normalcy. _

Call it distraction or some false sense of securitybecause if anyone cares to ask, she's actually _going out of her freaking mind_ here by the minute.

She just killed twelve witches, she's almost positive she has unwanted feelings for a heartless monster and there's a fucking psycho intent to drag her to the pits of hell.

Her whole humanity is in atrophy. Give her a goddamn _crutch_ if you please.

_Your mind is a lovely place to be in, Caroline._

Yep, original hybrid stalker skips town only to be replaced by shapeshifter warlock stalker.

Huh.

Ain't she popular?

Seriously though. What is it with these thousand year olds and their penchant for borderline neurotic teenage girls?

At least Klaus had the decency to back off when she said no but Silas… Silas doesn't always seem to get the memo what with his constant trespassing of her personal space aka her mind. Her thoughts. Her dreams. Her _secrets_.

Deep inside, she may still be a tiny bit of the Caroline-Forbes-certified-attention-whore of the past—

_Tell me I'm good._

_Ask me if I'm ok._

_Just freaking take a look._

—But she's not yet ready to be _peeled_.

And the blackouts…. Waking up next to cliff with no idea how she got there isn't exactly how she want to start her every day.

It's a message, she knows. About what, she can't tell. If Silas wants her dead, he could have done so singlehandedly and it's not like she'll willingly jump to the lake to find out either. But somewhere, in the back of her mind, she has a foreboding sense that soon, she will have take the plunge.

_So much darkness hidden behind this facade of light._

The Grill's lights go off as if on cue. The power shuts down. Her phone rings.

"Blondie. School. Now."

Ugh.

"Well hello to you, too, Damon. _So nice_ of you to see how I'm doing."

"No time to be a smart mouth, Caroline. Get your fine ass here right now."

Of course, she will. She _always_ will but sometimes—

"Only if you say please."

It's more fun to hear them beg.

(Yeah, maybe she _is_ a little dark and twisted like that.)

* * *

"I'm sorry, Caroline." Alaric's silken voice caresses her cheek as he presses the blade on her wrist. "But you have to keep cutting."

Really, Silas. This is a new low even for you.

And he laughs, as if reading her mind. It's the same laugh from when good ol' Mr. Saltzman vervain gagged her in the school and stuck pencils through the palms of her hands.

She forgave him, you know, but she didn't forget.

"Crack, crack, crack." He whispers in her ear. "Is that you I hear breaking, sweet Caroline?"

"Fuck you."

Burn her in the sun, put a bullet in her head but Caroline Forbes _never_breaks.

He trails his lips on the side of her face before placing the gentlest of kisses on her forehead.

"It will be over soon."

* * *

Silas is dead, or so they tell her.

She celebrates.

* * *

Stefan leaves with Lexi, making her little party even littler and more suckish than it already is but hey, at least he's smiling again. It's been a while.

Matt and Rebekah are checking the power supply. She's by herself in the candle-lit room, nursing half a glass of lukewarm scotch. She thinks the silence is good. She takes comfort in knowing she can finally be alone inside her head with no one lurking behind her every thought.

She's not one bit sad her dad didn't show up tonight. Maybe he's happy, you know, wherever he is and she's happy if he's happy. She doesn't really want to beat herself up too much about it to be honest. Most people around here have a nasty habit of being too caught up with their own supernatural drama and shit to care about other things and she took it upon herself to keep those other—r_eal world and human_— things happening.

So you see, Silas, you have to understand that Caroline Forbes can't just_break._ She can't just turn off and check out. Just imagine what would happen if she did and—

Ugh, what's the use of talking to a dead guy anyway?

* * *

At home, Caroline's raiding her mom's liquor stash (which Liz only drinks during those I'm-a-single-mother-and-a-sheriff-and-my-daughter- is-a-vampire nights) when she thinks she saw Carter standing outside her kitchen window.

The wine bottle breaks.

Remember him? Because Caroline does.

Tall, dark and lean and oh so _tasty—_No.

Carter. Her first kill.

"Did you throw a party when you murdered me, Caroline?" Carter's warm breath tickles the skin of her nape.

Quickly, she bolts away to the other side of the room but he's already gone.

_It's the veil, isn't it? But he's not a supernatural. How could—_

"Silas." She breathes.

"You called me, love?" And he appears, donning Klaus' stubbled face and his freaking necklaces.

"You're dead." She tries to stop her voice from shaking. "Bonnie… She—"

"Oh yes, Bonnie. Testy little witch, isn't she?" Silas/Klaus speaks, the words rolling off his accented tongue, as he steps closer and she takes a step back. "You forget though, that I'm the first immortal. It's quite presumptuous of you to think you can get rid of me with a mere human girl who could cough up a few spells."

Her back hits the counter. "What do you want from me?"

Closing the distance, he traps her in place with both arms on either of her sides. "The thousand numb years I was forced to live and my dried heart grew harder than my stony grave." He whispers, dimples showing, and steals her gaze with his borrowed eyes.

"And you, Caroline… You're an entire lifetime of what I've lost."

Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoudouchewaffle—That's a _low blow_. Try telling that to her again when you're wearing a different face.

Knowing exactly what's on her mind, Silas/Klaus smirks (yes the signature smirk).

He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair on her ear and before she can catch her breath, he's not Klaus anymore.

"What do you need a king for when you can have a god?" The deformed figure speaks but it's his words that made her legs buckle.

Little Caroline has always dreamed to be a princess but a god—

"Why are you so intent to break me?"

"Revenge, for the most part, for thwarting my plans. And I could have easily chosen to kill any one of you but death is too much of a forgivable end." He says then, amusement in his voice, as he trails a long finger on the side of her face "So I intend to keep you, little one. I gather I'll never have the cure but I'll have you."

His finger stops at the center of her forehead—

"I will break you down and build you back up again and only when you are molded to my taste, will I _devour_ you completely."

—and he pushes until she stumbles back…

And the water hits her nose.

* * *

_Caroline._

_Caroline._

"Caroline."

Her head ups up to see Stefan crouching down next to her, confusion and worry painting his kind face. She looks around to take in her surroundings—the moon up ahead, the trees towering on her damp and shivering form beside the cliff.

"What are doing you here?"

"What happened? I came here as soon as I got your call." He says, voice panicked. "Caroline, what's—"

"What call? I didn't—" Her eyes widen. "You-you have to go, Stefan. You have to _go_. Tell Bonnie, Silas is—"

_Snap. Thud._

"STEFAN!"

* * *

The metal coffin sinks like dead weight underwater and he watches.

With his own eyes, the first time since a thousand years.

"Stefan?" The girl speaks when she comes to from shock and fear.

He turns.

"Silas." She hisses.

"You know me well."

Slowly, he extends an arm, reaching out to his little flower and brushes her face with the back at his hand. She doesn't move but stares at him with a myriad of emotions in the pool of her eyes. Some he can't name. Some he has forgotten.

"My goddess." He whispers and it is then when he catches the glimmer in her eyes. He smiles. Niklaus was right. Even the purest of hearts are drawn to the darkest of dark. The hybrid caused a fissure to this girl's heart when he tried to ruffle her perfect little feathers. But oh Silas will pry those cracks open with the crowbar and bare her inside out until he could wear her on his skin—

A life for a life.

—if only to claim back everything that was lost to the man whose only crime was to love.

* * *

**A/N:**

Unbeta'd. Thanks for reading!

Visit my tumblr: hybridtunnelvision


End file.
